I stuck to my training plan and have been feeling much stronger than last year at this time, and I slowly began to tell people that I had registered for this race weekend. People were slightly surprised when I mentioned that I'd be doing the half and full and several of them who had run this course told me that it was quite challenging. I hadn't looked at the course or elevation profile, but these people were road runners-of course trails would be more challenging. Right?
A few weeks out from the race weekend, I finally bit the bullet and checked out the course. And it looked challenging. We don't have many hills to run around here and even when I seek out some climbs, my runs usually only have 300-400 feet of gain over 20+ miles. This isn't really ideal for the races I have planned this year, which is another reason I have filled my schedule with smaller, challenging trail races. The half and full for this trail weekend was what I needed, even if I wasn't quite ready for that elevation.
So, on Saturday morning, I headed down to Pinckney, Michigan, for my first of two races: the half marathon. It was cold and windy as we waited for the race to start, but there was no rain (and no snow!) so that was a plus, and I knew once we got in the woods we'd have a nice shield from the wind. Racers huddled behind walls to block the wind until it was time to head to the start line.
There were over 500 people running this half marathon, and on a single track course, that made it crowded. We were running pretty much toe to heel the entire time, with the occasional runner who would come from nowhere, shout "ON YOUR LEFT" and fly by through the leaves and branches on the sides of us. After a couple miles, I settled in behind a guy who was running at a pace I was comfortable with. The hills were somewhat steep, but they were short, and most of them went right back down after the climb. As the miles went on, I began to wonder about this guy in front of me and after seven miles, I got up the courage to talk to him. It turned out he was running the half marathon and 50k on Sunday and was training for the Mohican 100 in June. I'll be there running the 50, so we had a common bond. I followed him until about Mile 11.5, and then it seemed he was slowing down and I wanted to pick up the pace to head for the finish. I thanked him for his leadership for the majority of my race and went on my way.
I took some pictures and some funny videos and I think this one is a good representation of my day. Smiles and waves and camaraderie out there with fellow trail runners.
My quads were feeling a little sore from the climbs and descents, but I nearly sprinted that last mile and a half. It was a race, afterall, and I wanted to just let loose. I crossed the finish line in 2:15:37, a respectable time for a trail half marathon, and I was feeling confident about the full marathon the next day.
I'd like to tell you that I went straight home and put my feet up, but that wasn't the case. I drove the 1.5 hours home, showered, made a taco salad, and headed to a friend's family birthday party for the next four hours. After that, we dropped the kids off at Nana and Grandpa's for the night, and I went home to soak in the tub. After that, I had some fabulous pizza and watched a little Netflix, drank a beer and went to bed. That 4:30am wake-up call was going to be a little tough after the day I had had.
Once again, I headed to Pinckney, this time with Jason. I knew this was going to be a tough course for him as his first marathon, but I kept things positive. We had some friends running the 50k and the 5 miler, and it was so nice to meet up with them on this chilly morning!
My quads were a little sore after the previous day's race, but I was ready to get things started. I knew I'd be going at a more conservative pace on this second day, and I planned to follow Jason and take in the sights. After a few crowded miles, it was clear I'd just have to run my own race. Jason had taken off with a pack of runners and I had no way of sticking with them.
By Mile 8, the course thinned out a bit and for some reason, I hit a low point. It was so early in the race and I was feeling more than a little discouraged. At Mile 9, I decided to grab some Coke and a cookie and then forged onward.
Close to Mile 11 I was feeling a bit better, and when I paused to let a few faster runners pass, I noticed a familiar face among them. He didn't know me, but I knew him. Many years ago, when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter, I would go to the gym and slowly walk on the treadmill. Most days, this man would come in to run FOREVER on the next treadmill, and he would quickly draw a small crowd. Over the months, I would listen to him tell stories of a big race he was training for called Western States. I didn't even know a race like this existed! 100 miles? Of running? All at one time? Who was this guy? I was fascinated. And highly intimidated. And I wasn't a runner. Running was TERRIBLE! Since becoming a runner, it seems I see him everywhere. At the grocery store, walking in town, biking past my house. I had never gotten up the courage to talk to him, but today I did. I said, "Hey, I know you! You live in my town!" And over the next 2.5 miles I told him how I knew about his Western States run and that I was training for my first 100 miler and I would love any advice he could offer. He told me the best thing I could do was to learn to run the downhills. And then he said, "Follow me" and took off like a shot down a steep hill. So I did. And it was amazing. We did it again, and again. I don't think 2.5 miles of a race have ever flown by so fast. That was just the pick-me-up I needed. I thanked him and went on my way.
And then, as I passed through the start/finish on my way to the second loop, there was my friend, Jessica, smiling and cheering and taking photos of me and then she ran up and gave me the most delicious white chocolate macadamia cookie I have ever had and wished me luck on the second half of my race. That's what friends are for, right there!
I hadn't seen Jason in miles, but I figured since he wasn't at the finish area that he must've headed out for the second loop. The next few miles were very quiet, but it was a gorgeous day and the trails were so peaceful with the runners finally spread out and I just took in the sights.
At the next aid station, I fueled up and of course I had to take my token "orange smile" pic for the archives. I grabbed a couple more snacks and headed on down the trail.
Around Mile 16, I hadn't seen another runner in quite some time, when I caught a glimpse of grey and black ahead of me. It was Jason. I didn't think I'd catch up to him, but when I did, he wasn't in great shape. His IT band was giving him trouble, as it had in all of his longer training runs, and he had a pretty good limp going on. I gave him some Motrin and a salt cap and told him we were going to walk the uphills, jog the flats, and get down the declines as fast as possible. We had less than ten miles to go and we had to get it done.
After a couple more miles, I could tell he was feeling a bit better and we got into a good rhythm. We made it to the Mile 22.5 aid station and when a guy in a kilt cracked open a PBR for us, we did not say no! I've come to know that ice cold beer at Mile 23 of marathons are one of the greatest things ever. At this point, we knew we were both going to be marathon finishers, so we grabbed a couple more snacks and hit the trail for the final few miles.
My quads were screaming at me on the downhills those last few miles, but I told them to shut up. I had done it. 39.3 miles in two days on a tough course. And I knew if I had more miles to go, I could've done it.
As we neared to finish line, I sent Jason on to get his big finish. He had worked hard the past four months, training in the dark before work and in snowy and cold conditions and it was time for his reward. I crossed shortly behind him and we were both surprised to learn that we had placed in our age groups. We definitely had something to be proud of. We had both persevered and we completed what we set out to do.
After scarfing some cheesy bread given out at the finish line, we headed home for showers (is there anything better than a post race shower?!) and grabbed some dinner before heading to pick up the kids. I think Nash was happy to see me...
Oh, and then? The day was not quite over because I'm also a softball coach for my oldest daughter, and we had a practice to get to. Mom life never ends, you know? And really, there's no place I'd rather be. As final reward for a weekend to remember, I discovered that those sunsets I love so much are back.
I love trail racing for the adventure, but I also love it for those little moments. A smile, a high-five, flowers peeking up through the leaves, turtles splashing into ponds when I run by, a woodpecker pecking in the distance, words of encouragement from a passing runner. I love that the peaks are windy and chilly and the valleys are warm and damp. I love the stories other runners tell as they fall into step with you for a mile or two. I love that we are all out there for those very same reasons. There is nothing like a trail race weekend that can leave your body totally depleted and your heart totally full. Races like these are what keeps my fire burning.
